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“Have you ever heard of the term ‘bucket list’?” Ron was about to drift off to sleep when he heard her whisper the question.
Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear her. It was as if she didn’t want to risk waking him up in case he had already fallen asleep. He willed himself to crank his eyes open and turn his attention toward her. “Bucket list?” he whispered back.
“Must just be a muggle thing,” said Hermione softly. He could make out her silhouette on the sofa, her elevated face looking down on his. She had her arm draped off the cushion, and her hand gently rested on the floor between them as she twiddled a piece of carpet between her fingers. It was an adorable nervous fidget he had noticed before.
“What does it mean?” Ron watched her expression as she gazed down at the carpet. He was getting better at reading her emotions but this one confused him. He longed for more light so he could see her face more clearly.
It was just a few hours ago that they were dancing at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but it seemed like days had passed, maybe even weeks. The expression she wore now was completely different from the one he observed while they were dancing. At the wedding she looked like she was at peace. She was beaming her beautiful smile when he held her. Her face had been flushed, hinting at excitement, nervousness, or both. But her eyes (which didn’t hold his gaze very long before shifting away shyly) were full of trust and hope, and if he wasn’t mistaken, desire. Maybe all of that was a projection of what he was feeling, but he liked to think it was more. If only he could recruit the courage to ask her.
He didn’t realize his gaze had landed on her lips until they started moving again, answering the question he forgot he had asked.
“It’s a to do list, essentially.” She bit her lip before continuing, and Ron hoped the wave of desire it sent through him didn’t show on his face. “A list of things you want to do… before you die.”
At that moment she locked eyes with him, and Ron had no doubt what was first on his ‘bucket list’. “Sounds depressing,” he said lamely.
Hermione shrugged. “Or motivating. Depending on how you look at it.”
It was both, Ron thought. A few hours ago, everything had changed. When they disapparated to Grimmauld Place, their fight for freedom had officially begun. Ron knew he wasn’t going to be reunited with his family until this was all over, and thinking about everything he had to do before then was daunting. However, there were certain… desires... that kept him focused on getting this dark part of his life over with, so he could return to something better, whatever that looked like.
“What’s first on your bucket list?”
Ron smiled at Hermione’s inquiry, and looked up at her to see she was grinning too.
“You know,” she said coyly. “If you were to die tomorrow, what’s the first thing you’d do right now? Knowing you’d be successful, of course.”
Ron was thankful for the darkness, so Hermione couldn’t see him blush. He was also thankful for the thick sleeping bag that managed to hide other involuntary reactions she stirred up for him. Leave it to her to make something so depressing sound so desirable.
“Well. First, I’d destroy all the Horcruxes so Harry could kill You-Know-Who,” he said. It was a lie, and there was a part of him that hoped that Hermione could tell.
Hermione sighed. Ron looked over at her, relieved that she was still grinning. “How very reasonable of you,” she said as she turned her attention back down to her hand, which had started nervously picking away at the carpet again.
Ron laughed softly. He looked down, and noticed that her hand was now even closer to his. He wondered if she had done that intentionally. His arm was uncomfortable in its current position, but he didn’t dare move it. “What about you?” he asked.
“I guess my first thing would be the same as yours,” she replied, as she raised an eyebrow at him.
He grinned at her. “Second thing, then,” he said as he propped himself up on his free elbow, making sure to keep his hand close enough to hers, just in case he plucked up the courage to touch it.
Hermione looked away, and Ron was instantly reminded of the many stolen but short-lived glances they’d passed between each other while slow-dancing just a few hours ago. He had been holding her hand then, which felt appropriate at the time. Would it feel that way now, if he tried?
After a moment’s hesitation, she shifted her gaze back up to his face, and confidently locked eyes with him. “I hope my second thing is the same as yours.”
Ron felt his ears heat up, and was again thankful for the darkness that obscured it. He held her eye contact before a wave of courage came on, and he slipped his hand over hers, intertwining their fingers. Relief washed over him when Hermione smiled and tightened her grip on his hand.
It felt different than before, holding her hand. Before it was just a side effect of dancing together, an act of convenience. Something friends would do. This time, it felt like a secret message, a promise, an agreement.
Ron looked down toward their joined hands. “So it’s probably not the same, then.” Before Hermione could misinterpret his words and pull away, he held on a little tighter, and began to run his thumb up and down the back of her hand. “Because I lied about the first one,” he admitted with a smile.
Hermione let out a breath of air as if she was relieved to hear him say that. “Me too,” she whispered quietly.
He loved how they could communicate so much to each other without saying anything at all. He was also relieved to know that he could still read her emotions in the darkness, and it gave him the confidence to do what he did next. He pulled her hand up toward his lips, and pressed a kiss to the back of it. He let his lips linger there when she didn’t protest or pull away.
When he set their hands back down between them she was smiling at him and blushing. She squeezed his hand affectionately before whispering, “thank you, Ron” and closing her eyes to sleep.
They kept their hands joined together as they drifted off to sleep. Ron knew that the next phase of their lives was going to be a dark one, but anything was worth it to end the war, defeat You Know Who, and ensure a world where Hermione, a muggle-born, experienced the same freedoms as he did as a pureblood wizard. He’d be willing to die fighting for it.
As long as he could cross one thing off of his bucket list.